


First Memories to the First Fall

by afangirlimagines



Series: Falling Forever [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 01:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20592638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afangirlimagines/pseuds/afangirlimagines
Summary: Aziraphale is struck by his memories from Before... but his memories of Heaven seem to have shifted from before. And he can truly remember Archangels Raphael and Lucifer for who they were.Should be read as part of the series, though could be read alone.





	First Memories to the First Fall

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn’t read the first part, know that Aziraphale now knows Crowley was Raphael in Heaven, though he’s struggling with this fact and his altered memories of Heaven.

The next few days passed without much event, disappointingly. The following morning, Crowley woke up to the very same couch, a steaming cup of tea on the table besides him, and new, faintly angelic blanket upon him. And just as he’d taken a sip of his tea, Aziraphale turned the corner, smile blooming upon his face as seated himself across from the demon.

“Morning, dear.”

Crowley mumbled in response, still too groggy to match the angel’s energy, not that he ever shared his cheeriness.

“I was thinking about our conversation the previous evening,” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up at this comment, trying to keep his hopes from shooting up just as quickly, “and I was wondering… would you prefer I call you Raphael?”

Crowley put down the barely touched tea (not that he had really planned on drinking much anyway), taking the moment to consider his answer.

“No.” Short and blunt, but more than Crowley thought he could voice at the moment.

Raphael was a name from a past life – one stripped from his skin. He couldn’t imagine going by it, living in some fantasy where he was an Angel of the Lord. As if the past six thousand plus centuries hadn’t happened. Crawly was a name he chose impulsively, that day on the wall of Eden. Knowing full well he couldn’t tell the angel he was the fallen Raphael.

And maybe, he’s finally proud of his chosen name. Crowley.

Especially when he hears it in the delightful twirl of his favorite angel’s voice.

Aziraphale smiled as he nodded, filing away the name Raphael as simply another tidbit about Crowley instead of anything larger. He was worried this whole time Crowley had been upset at being misnamed, though he supposed it would be silly to presume he’d want any name other than his chosen one.

“Okay, now that you’re awake, you simply must help me figure out where to put this dastardly sword. It doesn’t exactly belong in the bookshop, though I feel responsible to keep it in my sight, knowing War had made it her own.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, rolling off the couch and besides his angel, falling easily into their post The-Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t routine.

* * *

“Do you think I should dye my hair?”

“What?”

Crowley had to admit, he wasn’t processing the angel’s story, but to his defense, it kept being interrupted with the angel’s soft little moans as he took another bite of the kheer, his dessert at the quaint, family run Indian restaurant they ended up in for the night.

But the question, along with Aziraphale’s eyes locking on his own, quickly brought Crowley out of his thoughts.

“Well, you know, given that he said it makes me looks angelic and all. Maybe it’s giving me away?”

“Wait, wait, rewind it back. What?”

“Hmph. I knew you weren’t listening. You were much too calm.” Aziraphale pouted, looking much to like child denied a chocolate bar.

“Were you trying to rile me up, angel?” Crowley leaned half across the table, elbows pushing the tablecloth into bunches, as he brought his face near Aziraphale’s.

The angel gave just a tiny smile in reply, his eyes twinkling.

“Bastard.”

“Oh, shush.” Aziraphale’s smile flooded the rest of his face. “You enjoy getting riled. Otherwise you wouldn’t have created a slideshow presentation to prove why The Velvet Underground wasn’t bebop. You had already made your point, but you enjoy reveling in the heat of the moment.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. It was a damn good presentation, too. At least Aziraphale gave him a wahoo. He tilted his shades down slightly, looking above the rim.

“Should I be jealous, angel?”

“Should you?” He countered, before taking the last bite of his dessert, relishing in its rose essence one last time.

Crowley leaned back, collapsing against the back of his seat again, legs sprawled under the table. “Maybe of the rice pudding, I suppose. But then I’d have a feud out with almost every restaurant we go to. Suppose I’ll have to trust you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes suddenly widened, practically spinning out of his seat as he turned towards Crowley.

“Say that again.”

“Say what? Angel, I’m not going to say I’m jealous of your dessert. It was a joke. Do you need a presentation on what those are too?” Crowley rolled his eyes, but it was half-hearted. Something was stirring in the blue eyes in front of him, and Aziraphale looked positively crazed. It was worrying.

“Suppose I’ll have to trust you,” Aziraphale muttered, barely making it to Crowley’s ears.

“Go – Please, you know I trust you. What part of us against Armageddon made you believe that I didn’t?”

“No, no, no,” Aziraphale shook his head, eyes looking past Crowley. Practically through him.

“You’re worrying me, angel. Stop muttering to yourself. You’re going to look possessed. And apparently, it seems you’re the one that does the possessing.”

He waited a moment, hoping the angel would at least come out of his daze to say something about that. The thought of having possessed the palm-reader always brought a rise out of Aziraphale. He had apologized and taken her out to lunch out of guilt after the fact.

Crowley leaned forward and took Aziraphale’s hand, now empty of its spoon, in his own. “Aziraphale, please.”

Aziraphale blinked a few more times, before finally focusing his gaze upon Crowley’s face. His face softened and he looked… fond. Crowley wanted to lean away, put space between them instead of addressing the tightness taking over his chest. But before he could act, Aziraphale spoke up.

“I… I think I remember.”

* * *

It was less remembering, if Aziraphale really thought about it. It felt as though the tapes holding his memories had been stained or damaged. But now, the resolution was being brought up, lost scenes were now found, and blurred corners cleared up. And he was now separated from himself in his memories, observing his own life from the outskirts. His memories of Before began, as they would end, in a large room filled with God’s all-encompassing voice, and a group of Archangels standing up front.

The first memory to change was his first memory ever. He came into his own presence on his knees, head bowed in the direction where Her voice had sounded off.

“Aziraphale. Welcome.”

He was in the middle of a bright white room, though it was much warmer than the Heaven of today. This was when Heaven best matched humans’ depictions of them living upon the clouds. Heaven was soft, homey, and both gave way to and supported its angels. He remembered calling Her Mother once.

How much it all changed. How he changed.

He rose to his feed, lifting it up towards… well, not the Heavens. But somewhere above.

“From here forward, you shall be known as the Principality Aziraphale. There is much planned for your future, Aziraphale. There is a new creation coming. Humans. To be made in my image.”

His eyes stayed wide open as his mind was filled. Filled with an understanding of Heaven, of the other angels, of faith and of love. As the memories finished trickling through his mind, the glow surrounding him faded, and his attention was shifted to the front of the room again.

“Principality Aziraphale. You will serve to help protect these humans. Do you understand?”

He nodded, already experiencing an emotion which would become a close companion over his millennia. Though he didn’t know the word then, he was anxious. He was already responsible for something close to the Almighty’s heart, and he had only just been brought into creation.

In his own memory of the event, Aziraphale was alone with God, or rather Her voice, in that moment. But as Aziraphale watches himself in his memory, he’s able to look around. He sees the four Archangels standing a bit behind him. Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael. He knows in his heart this is truthful. But then, where is Uriel?

Lucifer stood the tallest among them, all six wings proudly spread behind him, while the others kept theirs folded away. Crowley wasn’t wrong. Lucifer was truly astonishing. Created with care, an image of beauty and charisma. Aziraphale felt drawn towards his presence. The group of Archangels all seemed to exude power, their halos giving them an unmatchable glow. But only Lucifer seemed to be aware of this.

Before he could take in Raphael, a thread seems to break which was holding the moment together. Lucifer suddenly turns around, storming out. Raphael looks distraught, hand reached out towards him, before frowning and dropping it back besides him.

Aziraphale tries to focus, restarting the memory from the beginning, focusing on the Archangels this time. But before he restarts in, he takes a moment to take in Raphael.

He seems like Crowley, now that Aziraphale can take him in without the over-exposure which caused him to remember Raphael as more a fuzzy light than tangible angel. But the differences make Aziraphale want to step forward, to get a closer look. He seemed softer, less sharp edges sticking out at each angle, and it felt strange to see the man he’d grown to know as Crowley standing perfectly straight. There was no 5-o-clock shadow on him. No crows’ feet or settled-in wrinkles from the stresses he would soon see. No snake tattoo curled up on the side of his face. Gone were his serpentine eyes, in favor of golden irises and a circular pupil.

But what changed the most was his hair. The fiery copper Aziraphale had known Crowley to cherish down on Earth was now a light auburn. When it caught the light, it was like a reflected shimmer of his halo rather than amber flames crawling higher. His curly hair was at its longest, just past his waist, and a section above his ear had been tightly plaited, tied off with a thin white ribbon. His hair was big, curls slightly messy, but not enough to seem unorderly. Even with his hair, he seemed to be teetering an unspoken line.

The memory began to play again and Aziraphale focused on the Archangels in front of him.

As God announces the creation of humans, Lucifer scoffs. Gabriel makes a concerned face, while Michael turns to give him a stern face in reply.

“What, you two are jazzed about this? At least Raphael understands. This is nonsense, creating an angel centuries later than the rest of us, just to guard her precious humans? It’s all about the humans now. We’re old news. Right, Raph?”

Raphael was keeping his head down in his spot between Lucifer and Gabriel.

“Come on. Now you’re gonna go silent on me?” Lucifer shook his head. “I knew you were a coward.”

Raphael’s head shot up at that, distress painted across his face. “Lucifer, please. I just… I don’t want to start a fight. I’m… I’m sure She won’t forget about us.” He glanced back towards the direction of her voice, before facing Lucifer again.

“Who needs Her, anyway? ‘These new creations will be in my likeness,’ as if she didn’t handcraft us into perfection. I could be Her. She’s just being greedy. Maybe we can’t be in her likeness cause we’re better.”

Michael and Gabriel gasped at that, watching as Lucifer stormed away from the scene, Raphael reaching his hand out to call Lucifer back, before dropping it.

Gabriel inched closer to Raphael. “You’re making the right call. Don’t let someone else dig your grave for you.”

“Why should the right call be betraying my brother?”

“Well you have us, don’t you?” Gabriel spun Raphael’s halo out of sync, chuckling slightly. “We’ll stick together. On the right side.”

* * *

“Principality Aziraphale. Welcome,” Michael spoke.

Aziraphale, the one not being examined by Michael and Gabriel, blinked as a new memory played in front of his eyes. The scenes changed in less than a blink, the stage already set to proceed.

“As a principality, your duty is as a protector. You shall help protect and serve those God entrusts in your hands.” Aziraphale nodded shyly up at Gabriel. “You may come to me with any concerns regarding humans, as I am responsible for helping paradise and the lands of the humans. However, Michael will help train you until Paradise is ready.”

Aziraphale remembers this moment. He felt as if Gabriel already wasn’t excited about his presence and he couldn’t understand why. Though now, he wonders if its more about the circumstances of his creation.

“You’ll also train in healing with Raphael later. But you may begin with Michael, now. You’ll require special training to catch up with the rest of the angels,” Gabriel nodded, before taking his leave. As he and Michael headed towards the training room, he sees Lucifer, talking to other angels. Their voices hush as they approach. The glare sends Aziraphale into a shiver.

* * *

The next scene is a training match between himself and Uriel. Interestingly, there are no extra halos upon his head.

He stood across from Uriel, scepter outstretched, ready to parry Uriel’s first blow. Uriel always made the first move. And this time proved to be no different. They danced with their scepters back and forth as they pushed and pulled in a dance of sorts, not that angels ever partook in such frivolous activity.

Just as Uriel seemed to have the upper hand, a whistle rang through the room. Uriel looked towards the noise, and in that moment, Aziraphale pushed his scepter against Uriel’s neck.

“Sorry, Uriel. But I need you to get injured to demonstrate healing, Uriel. The recruits are truly restless.”

“We were all created for this purpose, not recruited.” Raphael shrugged.

“And yet, I need to teach them how to heal when She hasn’t created anything which could hurt us. Silly, but that’s the job.” His turned his attention. “Principality, right? You’re doing a good job taking Uriel for being new and all. Sorry to steal him from you.”

Aziraphale bowed his head at the time, face red from the exertion and compliment. Even from the sidelines, Aziraphale felt touched by the moment. His memory told him he lost the fight, and Uriel simply dismissing himself. But of course, without Raphael, the scene wouldn’t have made sense. Why would She give him false memories which simply put him down? Couldn’t he keep a few happy moments of this time in Heaven?

* * *

Suddenly, Aziraphale was no longer at the outskirts of his memories. He was standing in his own body, amid a large crowd. Everyone was murmuring as they stood around the room, looking down upon Lucifer.

Oh.

Gabriel stood across from him, Michael by his side. “Lucifer, you know of the crimes which have been brought against you. But now you’ve deemed yourself unforgivable, bringing violence against your fellow angels while speaking against Her. How do you plead?”

Lucifer turned around the room, unbothered by the chains holding his wrists. He ignored his siblings as he began to speak.

“Tell me, my fellow angels. What have I truly done wrong? I asked a few questions, sure, but I voiced the questions which lie near all our hearts. I’ve made my complaints, but it was She who has cursed us with curiosity, yet denies us the right to ask, to question, to _learn_?

“And now, She comes with a new creation: these humans. To be created in Her image. To be granted the free will we were simultaneously given and denied. Why are we destined to accept this fate of overlooking Her new favorites, now that She’s become bored with us? Is this truly what you want for the rest of eternity?”

Lucifer looks right at him now, and Aziraphale cannot look away. But his eyes quickly move past him. Aziraphale follows the gaze to see Raphael hidden in the crowd, using a cloth to try to hide his face.

“I know many of you see me as selfish. And maybe I am. But if this is wrong, why did She make me this way? Why would She allow me to exist if it wasn’t a part of the secret plan we are apparently too inferior to know? She wants chaos, destruction. She wants death. It’s the only way her new creations may even come to see her. I am simply trying to provide this opposition She so desperately seeks.

“Yes, I plead guilty. If she is Good, then I plead Evil. Because She created me to be so. And I ask you all, to implore upon yourselves. I demand justice. I ask you, do you stand for justice too? Look within yourself, if you cannot find happiness in this cursed existence She’s given you, come with me! Come with me and know what freedom is. Let us truly exercise this free will we were given. Let us show her what a mistake this new creation will be!”

The room bursts into chaos at this moment. Other angels clamber down to join hands with Lucifer. Some begin to chant, ask questions, even blasphemy her name.

Until Michael snaps. As her fingers rub against each other, the floor below them disappears. She speaks now, but it is Her voice which comes.

“Archangel Lucifer, and those who wish to stick by his side. For your crimes against Heaven, you will face an Eternal Damnation. Know this pain you feel is the pain you’ve caused to those around you.”

The angels in the center of the room begin to scream, blood leaking from their eyes, halos shattering above their heads. Wings are tarred and they begin to fall. Towards a sulfuric pit, towards their boiling destination. All the angels scream, regret evident on their faces, as they try to claw back up, plead forgiveness.

All except Lucifer.

He falls with his head held high, smile still etched on his face.


End file.
